A Small Surprise
by thestudyofwholock
Summary: Sherlock and John meet their toughest challenge yet. Sherlock/John Friendship.
1. Chapter 1

221B Baker Street was extremely quiet. The only noise that could be heard was the slight bubbling of one of Sherlock's experiments and John turning the pages of the morning paper. This silence was suddenly shattered by a piercing scream from the foyer below their flat. The paper was rustled and a beaker was smashed as both of the men flew into action. John was the first of the pair to barrel down the staircase onto the landing. His hand tightened on the Browning strapped to his belt. The doctor froze, his hand dropped and his eyes widened at the sight he saw. Before he could act any further, Sherlock bounded down the steps and collided with Johns stationary form.

"John, what the hell are you doing?" Sherlock urged John to move aside. "I cannot see what you gaping at, Move!"

"Sherlock." John's voice was quiet and soft as he turned to face the detective. "It's a… a…a baby." John's voice faltered with confusion as the pair stood staring at the small person currently dozing in a pram at the base of the stairs. Sherlock's usual stony expression had contorted into one of bewilderment as he watched the tiny infant squirm in its seat.

"Sorry Dearie, that shopping has always been a hassle since I had my hip done." Mrs Hudson hobbled towards the child. She cooed over the baby and tickled its stomach. She went to grab the handle of the pram and looked up to see the doctor and the detective watching with very lost expressions plastered on their faces.

"Hello boys, no need to look so flummoxed, it's just a baby." Mrs Hudson strained to contain her laughter.

"Excellent observation, Mrs Hudson but whose infant is this?" Sherlock attempted to mask his bemusement with a display of his wit earning him an uncertain smirk from John.

"Well, this is Isabella and-" Mrs Hudson began before Sherlock interrupted her, "Wait, I will come to my own conclusions." Sherlock shot down the remainder of the stairs and began his verbal deductions.

"So ...Isabella, an Italian name derived from Elizabeth and meaning consecrated to God. Doesn't necessarily mean that you come from a religious background, many names have been changed to fit modern times. Your new clothing suggests you are first born and the style corresponds with young parents." Sherlock paused to take a breath and turned to Mrs Hudson, "Judging by your apparent connection to the infant I would assume you have a family link. I recall that you mentioned something about your granddaughter producing a child nine months ago. Going by the bags under your eyes pertaining to your lack of sleep and the slight increase in the frequency of your frown lines you seem confused and frustrated." During Sherlock's next pause he heard a disapproving grunt come from John, he never did appreciate Sherlock making such bold remarks about people's appearances. Ignoring John, Sherlock continued, "This could be the direct effect of many problems, more likely it would be a relationship dispute between your granddaughter and her partner considering their age and experiences with the pressure associated with the upbringing of child." He bought his deductions to a close with a concluding statement. "So I can only assume that you as a caring great grandmother happily obliged to caring for the infant whilst the parents try to 'talk it out.'" Sherlock being Sherlock rounded off his sentence with a tone of revulsion at the prospect of a feeble attempt at saving a relationship.

Mrs Hudson stood wide-eyed. She had witnessed Sherlock's deductions before but, never had one hit so close to home. She shifted anxiously beside the pram and looked at the floor, afraid of anymore of Sherlock's verbal assaults. Sherlock's expression returned to confusion at Mrs Hudson's reaction.

John continued down the final steps and saw Mrs Hudson's downcast face; the poor woman looked close to tears. He nudged Sherlock and whispered threateningly, "Sherlock, apologise."

Sherlock turned to John and narrowed his piercing grey eyes. John responded with an equally hostile glare, "Now, Sherlock"

The detective rolled his eyes and returned his sight to the distressed woman, "I must offer you my apologies, Mrs Hudson. I was unaware my comments would cause you any amount of grief." Sherlock attempted to sound as sincere as possible but his apology was met with an exasperated sigh from John.

The good doctor stepped forward past Sherlock who had all but given up on the situation and retreated to the staircase. John placed a comforting hand on Mrs Hudson's shoulder and said softly, "Just ignore him, he's a right git sometimes." That earned him a small sniffle-like laugh from their not-housekeeper. "How about you go and take some of your herbal soothers and settle down for the evening whilst we-," John spared a glance at Sherlock huddled and sulking on the stairs "Well, I'll look after Isabella."

Mrs Hudson considered this for a moment "I guess that would be okay, she's a fairly quiet baby."

Sherlock had only just tuned back into the conversation and he leapt from his position on the stairs, "John!"

The doctor turned to Sherlock and calmly replied, "Yes, Sherlock."

The detectives eyes widened in disbelief, "No. Not happening, I refuse."

John shook his head "Do you think I need your permission?" The little girl wriggling in her seat caught Johns attention. His tone immediately shifted from condescending to endearing, "Hello there, little one. Don't listen to Sherlock he's just a big meanie."

Sherlock found this interaction cringe worthy and instantly regretted what he would have to resort to, "But, Joooohn," he drawled whilst he slumped towards the doctor, "I was in the middle of a very important experiment." Sherlock gave John his best (what the Yarders referred to as) 'puppy-eyes'. They usually worked when Sherlock annoyed John at a crime scene and was resistant to assisting him.

"Well then, you will just have to baby-proof it." John said this with a matter-of-fact tone as he gathered Isabella up in his arms. He continued speaking softly to the child as he climbed the steps back to 221B.

"And how do you suppose I go about that?" Sherlock shouted after John.

John paused on the staircase and called back, "I don't know, you're the genius!"


	2. Chapter 2

Once John reached the flat he sat Isabella in the middle of the couch. He expected to hear the front door slam to signify Sherlock's disapproval. He didn't anticipate a loud crash on the staircase and a very audible sigh of frustration. After a quick assurance of Isabella's stability he rushed towards the stairs. His eyebrows shot up towards his hairline at the sight he saw.

Sherlock Holmes, the great consulting detective sat tangled in the components of a child's cot. He had a yellow satchel decorated with cartoon bees slung over his shoulder and looked absolutely disgruntled. John had never seen a more amusing scene but attempted to hide his laughter to prevent Sherlock from becoming anymore annoyed. The doctor returned to the living room and to Isabella who was trying to remove her socks from her tiny feet. John smiled and once again picked up the girl and went back to the staircase.

Sherlock was gathering up the pieces of the cot when he felt a hand on his shoulder, "Mrs Hudson said that these supplies were necessary for the child's wellbeing." He still didn't turn towards John and the baby.

"That's very nice of you Sherlock but it looks like you need some help. Here, you take Isabella and I will carry all this stuff upstairs." John offered kindly.

"I'm fine, John. I just need to-." Sherlock was interrupted as he fumbled with the supplies for the baby. The detective turned to face John and was met with a stern look. John was holding the child out towards him. Sherlock was very hesitant but finally accepted the baby.

At first, Sherlock held Isabella at an arm's length and refused to bring her any closer. Once John had found a comfortable position in which he could carry all the supplies, he looked up and saw Sherlock staring at Isabella with a petulant frown on his face.

John thought it must be like looking in a mirror for Sherlock. He chuckled to himself. Sherlock shot him a look and asked "What's so funny?"

"Oh just - Nothing." John thought the wisecrack may not be appreciated considering the delicate nature of the situation with Sherlock holding a baby and all. The last thing he needed was for the detective to have a tantrum.

"Fine." Sherlock eyed him suspiciously, "But can you please hurry up with those things, it's getting heavy."

John shook his head and sat down the cot pieces against the bannister and dropped the bag onto the ground. "First of all, '_it_' is a 'she'. And second, you could actually hold her properly and maybe she wouldn't be so heavy." John gestured to the awkward position Sherlock was currently in. "She isn't diseased, Sherlock!" John told the detective after he refused to move. "Look," John started as he took Isabella, "Hold out your arms with your hands facing upwards-."

"John, I hardly think this is necessary." Sherlock interrupted.

"The last thing I need is you with a sprained shoulder. I am already looking after one child, I don't need another one." John snapped at Sherlock, who almost flinched at the tone of Johns voice.

John noticed and apologised, "Sorry about that, um, where were we?" The doctor seemed lost after his sudden outburst.

"I believe you told me to hold my arms like this." Sherlock answered whilst following Johns instructions from earlier.

"Right, now I am going to place Isabella in your upper arms and I want you to curl your forearms around her and cradle her body against your chest, got it?" Sherlock nodded in conformation and John lowered the baby into his arms. Sherlock was initially very stiff but with a guiding hand from John he began to loosen up. "There we go, now bring your right hand up and support her neck and head." John said softly so that He would not disturb the baby whose eyelids were already beginning to droop closed. "You're a natural, Sherlock. She's already falling asleep."

Sherlock looked down at the child and John swore he saw the corners of his lips curl up into a 'blink-and-you'll-miss-it' smile.

"How about you take her upstairs and sit on the couch? You will be a lot more comfortable there." John whispered to Sherlock whose eyes were still fixed on the baby and replied with a small nod.

Once John reached the top of the stairs he was immediately stopped by the scene in front of him. Sherlock was rocking and cooing Isabella to sleep.

"Close your mouth, John. You look awfully moronic standing like that." Sherlock commented on John's surprised appearance without even looking up for a second. The doctor's jaw snapped shut and he shook his head for what seemed like the thousandth time that day and entered the living room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Half an hour later John had finished setting up the crib in his room. He brushed off his hands and wandered back out into the living room. He was met with a consulting detective sound asleep on the couch with Isabella's sleeping form still perched in his arms. John approached the pair quietly and attempted to pick up Isabella but, Sherlock's arms tightened around the baby. Happily surprised at the amount of affection the detective was showing Isabella, John smiled and tried to rouse Sherlock from his sleep.

"Sherlock…." John shook Sherlock's shoulder slightly, "Sherlock, Isabella has to sleep in her crib and you'll get uncomfortable sitting like that."

Sherlock opened one eye lazily and relinquished his hold on Isabella. John scooped up the baby and cradled her closely to ensure she didn't wake up. He dislodged one of his hands and picked up the blanket draped across the back of his chair.

"Here you go, lie down and get some rest." He threw the blanket at Sherlock who responded with a noncommittal grunt as he collapsed across the couch. John raised an eyebrow at the detective's lanky legs which were overhanging the edge of the couch but shrugged it off. John thought to himself 'It's a miracle he's sleeping at all. There is no chance at getting him to go to his actual bed.'

John returned to his bedroom and set Isabella down in her cot. He attached the mobile that had been in the bag and spun it around. It was a model of the solar system. All eight planets circling around the bright yellow sun. John spun the mobile and watched the little girls eyes sparkle with delight as she reached up to grab at the glossy colours.

"At least you appreciate the wonders of the universe." John smiled at Isabella whilst remembering his failure at teaching one very stubborn detective about the solar system. He tucked her under her soft pink blanket, brushed a few sparse curls from her face and headed to his bathroom to get ready for bed.

When he re-entered the room he peeked over the edge of the crib to find Isabella asleep once again. After triple-checking the positioning of her blanket he decided it was time he went to bed.

He was restless. No, he was more than restless. He was completely and utterly distraught.

Once John had climbed into bed, memories of the past flooded back to him. His mother screaming, his father shouting and a very still body wrapped in a soft blanket.

John awoke with a start and saw a figure standing next to the cot at the foot of his bed. He leaned forward only to recognise the flash of silver associated with Sherlock's eyes. His figure was rocking awkwardly in an attempt to soothe the gurgling baby squirming in his arms.

Still slightly dazed, John questioned the man, "Sherlock?"

"The child was crying and it made sleep impossible." Sherlock quickly explained. The detective looked over at John and began a rapid round of deductions.

_Dishevelled hair, movement in his sleep. Slight build-up of sweat, obvious sign of panic or stress. Arms crossed over chest, acts as protective barrier suggests he is hiding something. Rubbing the nape of his neck, perhaps an act of self-soothing. Conclusion: Nightmare._

Sherlock's concentration was suddenly broken, "What's that look for?" John queried after returning Sherlocks stare.

"What look?" The detective replied innocently.

"The look. The 'I'm deducing your whole life story look'." John stated much to Sherlock's confusion.

"John, you must be seeing things due to your lack of sleep. Lie back down and I will care for the child." Sherlock said as he brushed off John's observation. John let out a loud chuckle and rubbed his hands with his face.

"What is it?" The still confused detective questioned John.

"You." The doctor replied pointedly, "I never thought I would ever hear you say 'care' and 'child' in the same sentence." Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John's amusement but the doctor continued. "You've shown more sentiment today than in the entire time I've known you. Since when do you remember babies being born? Sherlock…. are you still listening?"

As an attempt to try and ignore him, Sherlock had turned away from John. "I thought that you would be pleased about the effort I have put into 'baby-sitting' this child. Anyways I was in the middle of a very important experiment pertaining to the growth of algae in the River Thames when Mrs Hudson interrupted me with the news." Sherlock replied bitingly. Although his back was turned, John swore he could hear the sneer that had settled on Sherlock's face.

Sherlock leaned over and placed Isabella back in the crib. He replaced her blanket as John began his apology, "Look, Sherlock. I am really glad you've taken such a shining to Isabella." Sherlock rolled his eyes but John went on, "It's just a bit different, but good different. I've never been fantastic with kids but.." John stopped short and cleared his throat and Sherlock eyed him suspiciously, "But, it's good to know at least one of us is capable." The doctor gave Sherlock a small smile but Sherlock saw through the act and recognised the guilt painted on Johns face.

Sherlock took the silence that followed as his cue to leave and he headed for the door. As he passed through the doorframe he turned to the older man and said "I was serious about you getting some sleep. Goodnight, John."


End file.
